A Hairy Tale
by leatharegee
Summary: Once upon a time in a land that is really quite closer than it seems, there was this perpetually halfbacked chick who lived with her evil stepmother and two demonic stepsisters...


.::disclaimer::. We own nothing but the plot and character names. The characters themselves are from tried and true fairy tales. We hope you don't mind us obliterating them with our poor humor and sarcasm. If you do mind....we don't care; we're not making any money off of this crap anyways! Enjoy! JC/LJ4e

* * *

Once upon a rather short time ago, in a land that is really quite closer than it seems, there was this perpetually half-baked chick who lived with her evil stepmother and two demonic stepsisters. Now, you may think you know where this story is going, but trust us – we don't be going there, girlfriend. So instead, please, imagine yourself in a serene setting, a gentle wind bending the soft grass beneath your feet. Then, as you walk, the ground below you changes, and you are in a forest, the trees whispering and rustling quietly around you. You venture further, hoping to see more of this wonder that is nature. You take a deep breath of fresh forest air, turn around – AND THERE'S A MAN WITH AN AX BEHIND YOU!! Oops, sorry, wrong story. I knew I shouldn't have interviewed Little Red Riding Hood before telling you this. Back to our story.  
Do you still have that serene forest image in your mind? Now, take that image and add seven dwarves, one perpetually half-baked chick by the name of Princess, and three little pigs, all running madly through the trees. Frolicking nimbly before them you see a fully-baked gingerbread man, chanting,  
"Run, run, you censoreders,  
as fast as you censoreding can,  
you can't censoreding catch me,  
I'm the censoreding gingerbread man!"  
Don't worry, it'll all make sense later. Or, if later means now, then...we'll tell you now. So, our story starts with this action-packed chase scene, also known as the World Famous Gingerbread Man Hunt, hosted by Hostess...Hostess Prince Charming that is. Yeah...don't ask. Anyway, every year the Prince chooses eleven people to participate in the annual catching of the gingerbread man. This year, rumors have surfaced concerning the gingerbread man's impending retirement. Due to the Prince's refusal to let him retire, he has already tried to commit suicide three times, but thanks to super-hold frosting, all previously detached extremities seem to be in working order. And I mean all extremities. However, the gingerbread man and the Prince have agreed to one last frolic, for old times' sake, before the gingerbread man retires.  
So our story continues at the gingerbread man's last stand....  
The gingerbread man runs and runs as fast as he can, ignoring the crumbling feeling in his repaired legs. He glances behind him every few minutes to make sure that none of the contestants are reaching the point of 'dangerously close'. He feels the frosting holding him together begin to weaken as a few of his strategically placed gumdrop buttons fall off. Suddenly, as he takes one last glance over his shoulder, a horrified expression flashes across his gingerbread-y face, and the last of the super-hold frosting loses its super hold; he crumbles to the ground, never to frolic again.  
"Heeeeelp meeeeee!" he squeals into the quickly approaching evening. Then, a few moments later, "Damn it! I knew I should have let them catch me this time! Now I'll never get to reti-" and the ending of his sentence dies with him, leaving you, the reader, to forever ponder the great Gingerbread Man's last words.  
Ahead, at the finish line, the prince glances nervously up at the steadily rising moon, which is hanging innocently in the night sky, mocking him. The prince sets off immediately to try and find the missing gingerbread man and the 11 mismatched contestants.  
Now, whatever became of our fair lady, the perpetually half-baked chick, who we last saw racing though the heavily wooded forest with her current opponents, the seven little midget dudes and the three pigs? Well, we can answer that for you...absolutely nothing. They are exactly as we left them, running through the woods trying vainly to find the Gingerbread Man, who as we know is as dead as a dead gingerbread man can be. But now, as nighttime sets in, Princess and company seek shelter in the well built brick house of Piggy Number 3. The seven dwarves and the three little pigs settle around the virtual fire talking quietly amongst themselves. (We should mention, after losing their fourth brother in an unfortunate roasting incident, real fires tend to scare the crap out of them). Princess, in an attempt to distract herself from the eerie noises outside, moves over to one of the numerous newspaper articles pinned haphazardly to the wall.  
_ "Big Bad Wolf Strikes Again"  
Early yesterday morning, a small girl in a red cloak notified officials of suspicious activity in the neighborhood. The Fairy-Godmother Task Force (FGTF) discovered yet another suspicious house collapse. The incident is being blamed on strong winds. However, after consulting the ever-accurate crystal weather ball, it has been shown that strong winds were not present at the time of the accident. This house, like the house collapsed in the previously mentioned incident, was built poorly and made out of a similarly weak material, this time twigs rather than straw. Footprints seeming to belong to a wolf were discovered circling the perimeter of the crime scene. The FGTF also found the words 'the Big Bad Wolf Strikes Again, Yo!' carved like graffiti into the Venetian marble flooring of the now decimated home, as well as several cigarette butts lying nearby. The homeowner, Piggy Number 2, is living with his brother Piggy Number 3, as is their third brother, Piggy Number 1, whose habitational facility was destroyed in a similar manner last Wednesday.  
Piggy Number 3 is well aware of the risks he is taking by accepting his two unfortunate brothers into his finely built red-brick home. However he insists that he has taken and will take all necessary safety precautions to keep his family safe. "After all," he says, "That D.A.R.E program at You- Ain't-Bakin' secondary school taught me everything I ever needed to know about dealing with strangers...you know - don't get into strangers pumpkin carriages unless they have good candy. If it's the cheap stuff, then it's not worth it. Yep, I feel pretty secure in my knowledge and I assure you that no Big-Bad-Wolf will come a-knocking on my door anytime soon!" Well said, Mr. Piggy. More information on this story will be reported to you as new evidence is found.  
_ Princess shudders as she looks around at the other newspaper articles, all mentioning the elusive and dangerous Big Bad Wolf. Her shudders worsen as her air-filled brain jumps to the worst possible conclusions. These articles are recent; what if he comes tonight? she wonders, imagining the wolf loping up to the front door, rearing up on his hind legs, his jaws opening fiercely to grip the brass doorknocker and let it slam once upon the door.  
BANG!  
Princess jumps. That knock was real, not a figment of her skittish imagination. Her breathing quickens and her hands shake as she lets out an unnaturally high pitched screech. One of the 7 dwarves (in her panicked state she can't remember exactly which one it is) notices her distress, and slowly approaches her with his hands up, indicating that he means no harm. After several unsuccessful attempts to get the high-strung and hormonal teenager to calm herself, the Dwarf decides that drastic measures must be taken, and in an act of pure frustration quickly injects the girl with a strong sedative. The other dwarves rally around him praising him for his quick thinking. They celebrate by dragging the bothersome girl to the convenient tall stone tower with one window located up the stairs to your left, and locking the hidden trap door behind them.  
A few moments later, Princess awakens to the odd sensation of one who is being slowly and painfully strangled to life by mass amounts of...HAIR, long beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen. And worst of all, it all seemed to be attached to her head as opposed to the pitiful looking mannequin in the corner of the round room. Princess immediately decides the mannequin is in desperate need of a new look. (Doesn't she know that faded denim ball gowns are so last century?) Princess shakes her head sadly and rips a chunk of hair out of her own head to begin weaving a dress for her new roommate.  
HUFF! PUFF! HUFF! PUFF! HACK! HACK! COUGH-COUGH! WHEEZE!  
Princess hurries to the window to see where the strange noises are coming from. Pulling several long strands of hair out of her face she is shocked to see a figure, all in black, puffing on a cigarette and blowing the smoke rings at the house and muttering insanely under his?...her?...its? breath (of what gender it was, she couldn't tell).  
"Excuse me kind smoking stranger!" She calls down to the mysterious figure who is now starting on his (her? it's?) fourth cigarette. "Are you in need of ass...ass..assisty-unce? No...that's not it! Damn script- writers!" The stranger's attention is finally captured as he is showered with a multitude of fluttering papers thrown from the top of the precariously built tower.  
"What do you want?" he growls, stepping into the light, "I be trying to blow down a bleeping house herr!" Princess recoils at his baggy FUBU jeans and giant ECKO shirt. "What, ain't you able to look at this?" he asks, gesturing to his wolfish face. He takes a step forward, and then backs up again, not wanting get his brand new, $300 Uggs dirty in a mud puddle.  
"What? No, it's, like, totally your clothes!"  
"My clothes? Yo, girl, my clothes be fine! Watchoo talkin' bout?"  
"Oh, my God, you know that I totally have, like, NO idea WHAT you just said?"  
"Yo, you be crazy, girl, livin' up in that tower like some--"  
"Ooooooh! Pretty!" Princess interrupts him, pointing to the steadily rising sun.  
"Aw, yo that's one massive bling-bling! I shall now proceed to ponder the possibility of purchasing that delightfully crafted piece on eBay...." Princess looks down into the figure's face, which has transformed from wolfish countenances to gloriously sculpted features.  
"Oh, my God, you're, like, such a hunk!" Princess squeals.  
"Hunk," he recites, "Informal, a large piece, a chunk, as in a hunk of fresh bread. Slang, a sexually attractive man with a well-developed physique," here he pauses to flash her...a charming grin before continuing his recitation, "Perhaps from Flemish hunke, a piece of food."  
"Ummm...right...whatever!" Princess muses perkily. "Hey, what happened to the ghetto wolf dude?" "Ah, that was an unfortunate event due to my lycanthropy." "Ummm...right...whatever! Well, who are you?"  
"I am -- " Princess jumps as a trumpet sounds out of nowhere. "I am -- " Again he is interrupted by the trumpet, this time accompanied by a bugle. He tries to start again, but is interrupted for a third time by a full orchestral fanfare. "I would much appreciate it if you would kindly cease and desist!" he shouts into the air.  
"Ohhhh, but it was such good music!" Princess whines.  
"As I was previously articulating, I am Prince Hostess Prince Charming!" Princess opens her mouth to inquire as to his strange name, but the Prince puts his hand up automatically, as if anticipating her question. "Don't ask." Princess closes her mouth and looks around at the scenery.  
"Sooooo..." Hostess starts, "What is your motive for being up in that precariously built tower attached to a rather secure habitational facility?" Princess is surprised at that question, seeing as that thought hadn't even occurred to her.  
"Um...like, I dunno?" She replies rather confidently; for her anyway.  
  
"Well, do you want to get down from there?" He calls up.  
"Uh, like, totally!" she giggles back. The prince waits expectantly for her to begin climbing down to him. Nothing.  
"Are you coming down?" He questions.  
"My mother always told me not to ride off with any, like, strange princes unless they, like, came up to totally rescue me from further, like, imprisonment in tall stone towers with no exits." She says this all very quickly and attempts to flip her hair over her shoulder. The prince watches in horror as she is instead hurtled over the windowsill. Hostess rushes forwards to catch her when he realizes that she is actually floating slowly to the ground. His immediate (and correct) assumption is that the mass amounts of air in her head have actually enabled her to float gently and harmlessly to the ground, hair and all.  
"Wow! I, like, totally want to do that again!" Princess exclaims. Hostess rolls his eyes, slowly growing accustomed to Princess's flaky behavior. He flashes her another charming grin, realizing that her airheaded demeanor doesn't bother him as much as the more provocative and seductive behavior of Goldilocks had.  
"I think I may be in love with you, Princess," he says, trying to look straight into her eyes. Instead, she giggles and looks around, noticing his noble white steed that has appeared from nowhere.  
"Oooooh, pretty horsey!" she squeals, running to climb onto the horse. "It's not a real horse, of course," he tells her proudly, "I redesigned it's genetic structure in my radioactive molecular biochemical nuclear-transfusion art class back in 7th grade, to enhance him with the ability of teleportation."  
"Tele-whata?" Princess asks, genius radiating from her like warmth from an ice cube.  
"Never mind," Hostess answers briskly.  
"So, like, shall we?"  
"Shall we what?"  
"Like, ride off into the sunset," she answers, gesturing to the slowly rising sun. Then, as an afterthought, she adds with a roll of her eyes, "Like, duh."  
And so the two lovers climb onto the horse and ride of towards the sun.  
"Wait...isn't it morning?" Hostess asks. "That should be the sunrise!"  
"Oh my God, like, who cares?" Princess replies irritably. "A sun is a sun; let's go!"  
"I care! This logic does not settle well with me! Anyway, it's not real logic."  
"Like, yes it is! It's illogical logic!" she says as if it's the most logical thing in the world.  
"There's no such thing as illogical logic!"  
"Like, huh, yes there is!"  
"No, there's not! I'm telling you!"  
"Okay."  
"NO, THERE'S --" he stops, realizing the argument is abruptly over. He turns them around and rides off into the west, hoping to catch the sun on the other side of the world before it sets. Together they ride for several hours, finally reaching what appears to be a small western saloon.  
"Ye Old Rum and Sleepy Thyme Inn," Hostess reads off of the sign marking the building.They dismount the horse and make their way inside.  
Inside, it is a raucous scene; men drinking, fights brewing, and one extremely blonde woman delivering drinks to the tables. Hostess groans, immediately recognizing the woman as Goldilocks, one of his, shall we say, more...daring...exes.  
"Oi! Hosty! Over here!" Goldilocks spots the couple hovering by the entrance and is now waving excitedly, inviting them over to her.  
"Here we go," "Hosty"says under his breath, similarly to the way one who is being led to his own death might say 'let's party'.  
"Like, where are we going?"  
"Nowhere. It's a figure of speech."  
"Like, my figure is totally better than Speech's figure," Princess retorts.  
"Of course, of course it is," Hostess tells her, keeping one eye on Goldilocks, watching carefully for any sudden movements in their direction.  
"So like, where are we, Hostess?"  
He looks away for a moment, turning his full attention to Princess to reply. He turns back around a second later to find –  
"Goldilocks!" He exclaims, a look of fake delight plastered to his face, "How wonderful to see you!"  
"Hello, Hosty, dear," she coos, giving him a wink. Hostess nods curtly and pulls Princess closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. It is just then that Goldilocks notices his half-baked companion. Goldilocks gives her a disgusted sneer and turns back to Hostess.  
"Soo...who's she." The way she says it, it's more of a statement than a question. The superior look on her face most certainly shows her annoyance in being replaced by this...girl.  
"Uh...," Hostess suddenly realizes that he has not found out his partner's name. He turns to Princess, eyes wide, trying to get his message across. No luck, obviously, seeing as Princess can't even understand spoken statements on her best days. Resorting to plan B, he whispers in her ear,  
"What's your name?"  
"Bob!" She says loudly.  
"Bob? Your name is Bob?"  
"No! My name is Princess, but my old friend Bob is over there." She points to a rather stout man sitting in the corner with a massive tankard.  
"Oh."Hostess digests this new information quickly and turns back to Goldilocks, who is now wearing a rather smug mask beneath her usual 8 lbs of makeup. Suddenly the man named Bob comes to life, yelling in their direction.  
"Oi, Goldilocks! Bring me another tankard!" He gestures to his empty one.  
"So, what happened to your old nickname, Goldi-digger?" She shoots him an evil look and pointedly ignores both Bob and Hostess's questions.  
"Well? What's her name, then, Hosty dear?"  
"Princess. Her name is Princess."  
Goldilocks bursts into gales of laughter, her breath further constricted by the ridiculously tight corset she wears. Princess turns around abruptly, looking quite bewildered.  
"Like, what are you laughing at?"  
"You – you– your name! Your name is Princess!" Goldilocks spits out around her laughter. She doubles over with a fresh wave of hysterics, smudging her makeup as she wipes tears from her eyes. Princess glowers at the howling harlot.  
"Yeah, so what? What's, like, wrong with my name?"  
"Oh, it's just so amusing!"  
"It's like, totally not!"  
"Oh, on the contrary, my dear, I find it perfectly deserving of a good guffaw."  
Goldilocks straightens up with a gasp and wipes the last of the mirth from her eyes.  
"Oh, yeah? Well...well...you're not a real blonde!" Goldilocks freezes and glares at the once seemingly harmless empty-headed girl before rounding on Prince Hostess.  
"How DARE you! You promised not to say anything, you...you...you...BEAST!"  
Hostess' eyes widen at the bold hint to his lycanthropy.  
"Oh, how dare YOU! You...insufferable tramp!" Hostess yells at her before grabbing Princess by the arm and pulling her out of the dreaded bar behind him. After hoisting Princess on to the horse, Hostess reaches up to pull himself on in front of her when a familiar and finely manicured hand grabs him by the shoulder and twists him around to face it's owner.  
"If you leave, you will NEVER see me again!" Goldilocks' eyes are pleading. "Please...remember the fun we used to have? --"  
"Fun? I, like, totally want to have some fun!"Goldilocks gestures to Princess as if to say, 'See what I mean?' before resuming her tirade.  
"Come on...leave her...you're too smart for her...anyway, she can manage on her own!"  
She barely hides a snicker at her outright lie.  
"NO! I won't leave her, Goldilocks, I love her!"  
"Fine!" Goldilocks steps back and addresses Princess. "I challenge you to a traditional Yee-Haw Ol' Western Showdown'! Winner takes all!" "Like, all what?" Princess asks, twisting a strand of hair around her finger in a not-so-menacing way. Goldilocks rolls her eyes at Princess's ignorance and snaps harshly.  
"For Hostess, you FOOL!"  
"Like, okay! Whatever." Princess slides down from the horse's back and makes her way over to the voluptuous fake-blonde, winding her long hair into a makeshift lasso as she approaches. Goldilocks steps back, her nails tripling in size, forming razor sharp claws.  
"Bring it on, Blondie" Goldilocks growls.  
"Like, whatever, Brownie." Princess replies, rather pleasantly for one who is about to be quite dead. Goldilocks bristles at this comment, sharpening her nails against each other with a horrible grating sound.  
"It's not brown." She says defensively, "It's dirty blonde."  
"Oh, it's, like, definitely dirty."  
"Wench!"Goldilocks screeches. She lunges, claws extended, for Princess' jugular.  
Princess twists out of the way, swinging her lasso high above her head to bring it down around Goldilocks' ankles. Goldilocks crashes clumsily to the ground, face first, rolling over to look Princess in the eyes.  
"Alright, Bimbo. You've won fair and square."  
"Yay! I like totally beat you!"  
"Yes, yes you did." Goldilocks says resignedly, her face flush with embarrassment.  
Princess takes the rest of her long hair and ties Goldilocks to a nearby tree before turning to walk back to her lover.  
"Ouch!"  
Princess, in her excitement, had forgotten that she was attached to her hair and therefore to the tree. With a sudden and unexpected bout of intelligent thought, Princess grabs Goldilocks' sharp nails and hacks away with them at her own hair until she is free. Then she turns to run into Hostess's waiting arms. He catches her around the waist, swinging her around once before lifting her up onto the horse and swinging up in front of her to grab the reins. "Let's, like, bust this joint." "Totally." And so the two ride off into the sunset, getting smaller and smaller in Goldilocks's eyes until they seem to disappear over the horizon.  
We would like to say that the pair lived happily ever after, but you should know us better than that by now. The problem is that, like in all fairy tales, Mr. Prince Hostess Prince Charming and Mrs. Princess Hostess Prince Charming rode off into the sunset, forgetting that, in this case, riding off into the sunset means, literally, riding off into the sunset. And so the two lived horribly ever after, burning for eternity in the fiery pits of hell. Thank you for listening. Goodnight. And LIVE FROM NEW YORK IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT!

* * *

Thank you! Thank you very much! My friend and I wrote this for english class, complete with illustrations and such....but alas! I have no scanner...so I cannot share with you our pictures. But I do hope you enjoyed the story and Please: REVIEW! It would make us most happiest! Thank ye very much!  
  
JCtigerwolf4e/LJstagflower4e (who is one person who can't decide between two names....choices make her(me) nervous. shudder) Haha. Okay, I hope you enjoyed it! 


End file.
